


If You Need Me, Call Me

by AutumnHobbit



Series: I told you you could always count on me [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst/Fluff, Bucky Feels, Bucky is Captain America, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Feels, Feels, Gamora Feels, Gen, Hurt Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, In which I shamelessly pick and choose which comic pieces to honor and which to ignore, PTSD, Peter Feels, Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pretend that there's a crossover someday, Rocket feels, Shameless Hurt/Comfort, Some Fluff, Some angst, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnHobbit/pseuds/AutumnHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've all got their issues, and their own unique patterns of brokenness. Except now, they also have each other's backs. </p><p>Or: Five Times The Avengers Helped The Guardians, And One Time The Guardians Helped The Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nefhiriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefhiriel/gifts).



> So, I've wanted to write a crossover for a while, and I think I might finally have it worked out (sort of.) So, here goes nothing.  
> There were some obvious parallels between the Avengers/Guardians characters, but I wanted to reach a little further and be a bit more creative with them. Except for Rocket. His goes with the same character you'd expect. :P 
> 
> Dedicated to Nefhiriel, for her enabling of excessive team feels. My stuff is nowhere near as good, but I'm trying. :P
> 
> If you feel so inclined, please check out my YouTube. I'm a fanvidder, and I do multiple fandoms: https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCHHzT9AF9qPAP9arsUVpC3g
> 
> Thanks for reading! Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter and Steve discuss music, childhood, life and loss.

When another morning dawned over NYC, it found Peter browsing the Internet in the living room. Of course, since JARVIS was basically everywhere, he didn't really need to be on the common floor, per se. But, the floor did have the advantage of all the really comfortable battered couches and chairs, plenty of junk food--and alcohol, if you looked hard enough-- so here he sat, with a coffee (spiked with vodka,) perusing the week-long music playlist Stark had given him. Sure, one would expect with nearly twenty missed years, there might be some stuff he'd missed. However, after he had come across the fifth song by a guy named Bieber, he decided Stark was screwing with him.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall and didn't look up from the tablet, assuming that if it was one of his teammates, they'd just do the usual morning routine of grumpy silence until after the second cup of coffee, and if it were one of the Avengers, it'd probably be either Banner or Romanoff. And they didn't speak unless spoken to, either.

Therefore, he was a little surprised when a cheerful "Morning," greeted him. He lowered the pad to see Steve, already dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt, getting a bowl of cereal.

...Okay, so he was willing to admit that he was more than a little unsure of how to act around the guy...after a rather prodding interrogation by the rest of his team one evening on their floor. After all, everyone had heard of Captain America. Heck, he'd had a lunchbox of the guy once. So to find out that he was back was...weird, to be sure. And yet, that annoying little voice at the back of his subconscious was snapping at him--and ever since the team, it seemed to have adopted Rocket's voice. _Come on, loser. Ya got kidnapped by aliens. I think you can keep up a rational conversation with an American hero._

"Stark give you a playlist, too?" Steve sat down on the couch across from him. Peter laughed. "Yup. Enough to spend the rest of my life on."

Steve smirked, scooping his spoon out of his cereal. "I know how that goes. He gave me this huge playlist, and I'm still going through it. of course, I had about forty more years worth, but still. And some of it I just hated." Peter shrugged. "I just delete what I don't like." He frowned at the screen. "You got any idea who this Justin Bieber guy is?"

Steve choked on his coffee. When he had gotten control of himself, he started laughing. "You probably don't want to know."

"I mean, his voice could be good, if it were...."

"Lower?"

"Exactly. And the music is so pitiful."

"I don't know." Steve set his bowl down on the end table and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I thought some of the electronic stuff was interesting. I probably would have hated it when I was younger, but..." He shrugged, smiling a bit wistfully. "I've learned to adapt pretty well, I think."

"Yeah." Peter sighed, glancing out the window at the sun rising over Manhattan. "I'd never been to New York, before." he admitted.

"Really?" Steve asked, interested. "Where are you from?"

"Alabama."

"What was it like down there? Cause there were a lot of really stupid stereotypes I've heard about it. I mean, if you don't mind telling me."

"Nah, it's fine. Well...I was outside a lot. See, when I was growing up..." Peter took a thoughtful sip of his coffee, "...it was me, my mom, and my grandparents."

"No father?'

"No. Not that I ever knew. Turns out he was some form of alien, too, though. Apparently." Peter shrugged wryly. "Learn something new every day."

"Anyway, my grandparents had a farmhouse out in the country. It was about a half-hour's drive to get to the nearest town. There were gas stations and such closer, but nothing really big. I spent a lot of time with the cows and chickens, running around in the fields, playing in the barn, working on the tractor. You know, the usual. At least till Mom..." he trailed off.

There was a beat of silence for a while. "I'm sorry." Steve finally said, glancing down at his hands. "I know how that goes." Silence for a bit more. Then Peter said "Cancer," so softly and unexpectedly that he was surprised. "Pneumonia." Steve said, equally solemnly.

They were quiet for a moment, as the traffic below roared silently. "How did you do it?"

Steve shrugged. "For a while, I didn't think I could. Everyone was gone...I mean, my parents were already gone, and I lost my friends, as well, whether to death or dementia. I mean, I was grateful they were still alive, but they were...different. They had lived full lives, and I still felt like everything had just happened. There were points that I thought I would lose it....or wished that I hadn't survived. But..." he smiled a bit as he looked around the room. "I got the team, and now we're friends. I found out my best friend was still alive. And now you guys are here. But just...knowing that someone was left helped. A lot." "Huh." Peter stared down at the reflective surface of the tablet. "Actually, now that you mention it...there is someone I could look for."

***

Tony was a bit late for Official Team Pizza And Movie Night. But when he did come into the room-- currently filled with superheroes clad in anything from leather to pajamas--he went straight over to Peter and handed him a file. "Found him," he said. "71, still living in the farmhouse. Has a cell now, though."

Peter stared at the file for a few moments before murmuring "Thanks, Tony," almost inaudibly.

Tony smiled. "Anytime." He crossed over the room and grabbed a couple slices from the box of meat market, sprawling beside his teammates on the couch. Natasha started the movie, and Peter got up and went into the kitchen for the phone. Even over the opening music, the team could hear him pacing, his voice, slightly breaking, when he said "Pap...it's me. It's Peter." And the rapid, emotional conversation that followed. And if a couple of them were a bit sniffly, well...no one ever said anything.

 


	2. Drax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Drax learns a lesson and Natasha gets some closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all know *that scene* with Drax in GotG, so I kinda figured, "hey, what if he innocently starts to call Natasha something insulting and she flips him over for it?" So that's kinda where this came from.  
> Enjoy. :P

This Terran planet that Quill had originated from was quite strange in its customs. That much, Drax was certain of.

For one thing, it seemed many people seemed bent on wearing so many layers of clothing, in spite of the fact that the summer temperature was rather stifling. But whenever he tried going out in a normal, sensible state of clothing, either the patriotic one or the two-sided one would stop him and explain that it was not proper to go outside with no shirt on, no matter how hot it was.

When he did go out, he got his fair share of staring. Apparently, most people on Terra had skin in shades of white, brown, or other earthy tones. So his skin attracted attention. Still, he was confused as to why people stared more at him than at the teenagers whose hair was spiked to three feet tall and dyed a garish shade of purple. He had taken to simply staring right back at whomever was looking. The annoyance didn't last long.

Sometimes he spied what looked like the markings portraying the virtues of the person bearing them. But whenever he approached the person and asked them which monster they had slain or torture they had overcome to bear them, they quickly ran away, sometimes leaking in the eye.

His largest difficulty, however, came in the form of names. The entire team had, as Peter had called them "alter egos," thought Drax couldn't see how their multiple names had anything to do with a table to sacrifice a creature on. There were apparently very deep, profound backstories behind the names, which were simply not talked about.

Therefore, he very often was confused.

"Man of Metal, the one named for seasoning and for a spicy fruit has asked me to inform you that the delivery from what was previously known as SHIELD has arrived."

Tony slowly looked up from his tools, staring at Drax. "....Do you mean, _Pepper_ asked you to tell me? And I've told you, my name is Tony. It's totally okay with me if you just call me that."

"What does it mean?"

The man of iron opened his mouth and then paused. "I....actually don't know. Why are we discussing this, again?"

"I simply want to know how you earned your name."

"Umm...my grandfather was named Anthony? So...I guess that's why it's my name?"

"Ah. So was your grandfather a genius wizard of technology? And if your name is Anthony, why do you call yourself Tony?"

"Because Anthony is a little long to say every time someone speaks to me."

"Why does it matter? If it is a name given in honor of your forbears, would you not be proud to say all three syllables?"

"I...." Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Can we take this up some other time? It's a little confusing."

"Very well." Drax said.

"And for the record, I do have a phone..." Tony grumbled. "Wait. What did she look like, when she asked you?"

"She was...smiling?" Drax said, arching an eyebrow and trying to figure out why that would be relevant. Tony sighed and turned to walk away. Then he stopped. "Actually, this...could be entertaining."

***

He received a suspicious look from the "Man of the Spangled Suit." And a strange gesture he did not understand from "Tweety Bird." The "Guy of Thunder" seemed almost pleased with his title. But the response from one of the other team members was most unexpected.

He and the red-haired one had been sent out by the Spangled One to find some ingredients for a dessert he wished to make. He paused in the aisle, while the woman rifled through the shelves and tossed items into his arms. After he had a load of maybe five or ten, she marched off. He dutifully followed. She was walking quickly, weaving between people and in and out of aisles. He did his best to follow, which was difficult due to the fact that he could hardly see over the stack. She drew to a near-stop again in the vegetable aisle, drawing a couple fruits from a rack and tossing them into a bag. "Ummm..." She seemed to ignore him, moving on to another rack.

"Excuse me, Scarlet Murdr...." Before he knew what was happening, his wrist was seized in a surprisingly strong grip, and he was flying through the air, landing hard enough on his back to knock the wind out of him. And above him stood the super-spy, hair impeccable and expression pinched, all the groceries he'd been carrying stacked neatly in her grasp.

"It was Stark, wasn't it?" She asked, voice dangerously low.

"What was?" he asked, still slightly fuzzy as he sat up.

"The idiot," she grumbled, turning and walking off towards the checkout. He staggered to his feet and followed, pointedly ignoring the horrified stares of the produce department manager and several other customers.

"I thought he was considerably intelligent." Drax said meekly when he was standing behind her in line.

"Well he is remarkably thick sometimes," she muttered darkly.

There was a beat of silence. Drax was becoming increasingly curious. Finally, he asked the question that had been nagging at him. "How did your husband die?"

Her head snapped around, and if he hadn't been looking, he would have missed the flash of something unfamiliar in her eyes; pain, perhaps, at a long-lost memory. But when she spoke, her voice was as dry as ever. "I don't have a husband. I never did."

"But they call you the Widow."

She threw her head back and laughed, really laughed. "Is this it?" She asked, turning to face him, but this time with a smile. "You wonder how we got our names."

Drax nodded. "On my planet, names are given to fit the person."

"Well, there are...many reasons they call me Black Widow." Her elusive smile had vanished, leaving regret. "I was slippery. Like a spider. In control, always, no matter what. Detached. Always twisting the threads to my advantage. I...did some things I am not proud of. That's where the Widow part comes in. It was a bad situation. I made it worse. It came back to haunt me."

She was lost in thought for a moment. Then she gave a rueful grin, with a hint of bitterness mixed in. "Guess none of us knew I could be human."

Drax didn't know what to say to that. They were quiet a moment more. Then he asked "What is your name? Really."

"Natasha."

"Natasha," he repeated, seeing how the word felt.

"Or Natalia, but they mean the same thing."

"What does it mean?"

"Christmas Day."

"What is that?"

"A holiday. A big celebration of how God sent His Son to save humanity from sin." She shrugged. "Guess the universe thought it would be fun to mock it with someone who would bring more sin and death than ten normal people do in their entire lives."

"Or perhaps, it was meant as a sign....that your Great King knew you would change...and in a way, help in His work to save the world, as well."

The Widow...no, Natasha, his mind supplied, looked confused, but slightly wondering. "On my planet," he rolled up his sleeve and showed her a design that snaked around his forearm, "...we would gift you this badge."

Icy blue eyes scanned the design. "What does it mean?"

"Redemption." Drax said.

Natasha bit her lip, and her eyes were slightly glassy.

Dtax took this as a sign that his encouragement had helped. The two of them silently checked out, and Drax carried the bags out to the car. 

Natasha was silent the whole way back.

***

The Apple pie was delicious. Even better, Natasha took Drax under her wing to educate him on Terran ways. Whenever he was confused from then on, he went to her first.

And as for Stark? Tweet--no, Clint--coughed, randomly broke into smiles, and generally acted oddly through the whole dinner.

And Tony had a nasty rash for a week.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter came off nicely. I really didn't expect the name "Natalia" to mean "Christmas Day." So I was improvising off what Drax might take from his limited knowledge of the story from his background. But of course, it is my faith, so I can't help but want to say more of how awesome it is. Still, I hope non-Christians can enjoy it, as well. :)
> 
> And if it wasn't clear, Clint planted itching powder in Tony's last load of laundry, which is why he's giggling throughout dinner.


	3. Gamora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gamora has a sharp reminder of her origins, and Tony lends a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets kinda angsty in this one, folks. I think this one would be rated T for a non-graphic description of surgery without anesthesia and *very* shaky science.

 

 

 

 

Gamora wasn't sure what had hit her.

 One second, she was in the gym, throwing knives and listening to Steve and Natasha chatting amiably as they did their own activities. The next, she felt as if something had just exploded right in front of her. The feeling brought back awful memories; of the fields and trees burning, of her _family_ burning. She felt her muscles tensed, stretched almost to the breaking point. She felt like she was stabbed by a thousand needles. Her entire body was on fire.

 Vaguely, she slowly realized a few things. She felt that she was sprawled on her back, most likely on the floor. And just barely, through the haze in her mind and the ringing in her ears, she could hear her name being called. Not alarmed, exactly, but definitely concerned. She appreciated that. 

Slowly, she opened her eyes, flinching when the lights made her head pound. Dimly, she saw Steve and Natasha bending over her. 

 "Gamora? You with us?" Steve asked softly, obviously noticing her wince.

 "Yes. Yeah, I think so." She was a little bit surprised at the dry croak.

 "Does this...happen often?" Natasha asked, glancing down the length of her body, as if searching for the cause of her seizure.

 "Not...often," Gamora said, with a little whimper as a spike of pain shot down her spine. Steve leaned a bit closer, looking worried. She held up a hand slightly to signal that she was alright. "I..." She paused and swallowed. "I wasn't made to...to be away from....him....for long."

 "So, there's some sort of chip, or device, or programming inside you to do...this to you every so often?"

Gamora nodded tightly. "To prevent me...from disobeying," she gasped through clenched teeth.

Natasha said nothing, but her lips tightened to a thin line.

"Well, normally, I would call Bruce in a situation like this, but since it's electronics that are causing the problem, Tony might be a better choice. Think you can make it there?" 

Gamora nodded. However, she surprised even herself at how her head slumped forward with a moan when Steve and Natasha carefully tried to ease her upright. 

"Okay, forget it," Steve said, deftly scooping her into his arms.

 

Gamora felt a little awkward, but she was also exhausted, and sore, and feeling more young and vulnerable than she had in years. And no one had held her like this since her father was killed.

 So she decided the universe could forgive her for leaning into his shoulder. Now if only she could get Peter to do this sometime.

 

Natasha reached down and patted her shoulder with the lightest of touches. Gamora tried to hide her slight flinch. It hurt, but she almost thought it was worth it, to receive a sign of friendship from the master assassin. 

 

 

 

"JARVIS, please tell Tony we have a situation that requires his help."

"I have already informed sir," JARVIS responded, his voice pitched lower than usual, as well. "He responds that you should meet him in his lab."

***

Gamora was a bit out of it on the way to the lab. She came around enough to flinch slightly at the shifting as Steve laid her onto a table. She expected the surface to be the familiar bite of cold, hard, unyielding steel. Instead, there was some kind of gel pad, soft and gently cooling. She nestled deeper with a huff of a sigh. 

Steve patted her shoulder. "Tony should be here soon."

Just then, the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss, and Tony bounced in, clad in jeans and a graphic t-shirt. "Well, what seems to be the major malfunction?" He asked brightly, and Gamora flinched slightly at the pitch of the tone.

Steve noticed. He shot Tony the _watch-yourself-I'm-Captain-America_  look. "Watch the voice, please. Migraine."

The smile dropped off Tony's face. "Sorry. I know how that goes." 

"Apparently there's some sort of...programming or implant to punish her..."

"...If she doesn't go back to Big Daddy often enough," Tony finished. "J, run a quick scan for me, will ya?"

"Of course, sir." 

Steve hesitated. "You need me for anything else, Tony?"

Tony waved him off distractedly while he pulled a box of tools out from under a table. "Nah. Run along and go play Mario Kart, or whatever it is you do all day. Besides, if I need you, I'll just call you back."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Okay. Whatever. Hope you feel better soon," he added to Gamora. 

"Thank you, Tony!" Tony called sarcastically at Steve's retreating back. 

"Thank you, Tony!" Steve called back sunnily.

Tony grinned and waved. As soon as the door closed behind Steve, he addressed the ceiling. "J, dim the lights."

He turned to Gamora, looking apologetic. "Sorry, that was a bit loud. You want some painkillers or something? Or do they even work on you?"

"I...don't know. Probably...not," she breathed. 

Tony cringed in sympathy. "That's rough. Steve knows how that is."

"Does he?" Gamora gingerly turned her head, trying to relieve the ache in her neck.

"Yeah." Tony was fiddling with his tablet now, not making eye contact. "The serum's awesome, but it prevents almost every medicine from working on him. Including pain killers and anesthesia. J, you got those scans?"

"Yes sir. Projecting them now."

The dim light hurt her eyes, but Gamora gazed at the projections anyway, curious of what had been done to her.

There were metal implants running down the length of her spine, four on one side and four on the other.

"If I'm getting this right, one of the 'modifications' that was done to you was altering your body to produce a synthesized hormone that makes it easier for you to build muscle and resist injury. And since we all know how sweet dear old dad is, he inserted the punishment into those chips, as well. They send not-quite-fatal electric pulses into your brain periodically, monthly to bi-weekly if you don't check in within six months."

"So that no one can remove the damage without also sapping my vitality..."

"...correction." Tony interrupted. " _I_ can remove the generators without harming your modifications, but in order to do it, I have to remove them manually."

Gamora swallowed hard. "You mean...?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Tony levelled his gaze at her. "It's your choice whether you want it done or not. But I can promise you that if I do it, he'll never be able to control you like this again."

Gamora turned it over in her sore head a few times. Then she gazed right back at Tony. 

"I've had enough of being controlled." And even though her eyes were half-lidded, there was steel in her gaze and voice. "More than enough."

Tony dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Is there anyone you want to be with you for this?" 

She sifted through the possibilities for a moment. Rocket understood what she was going through, but he wasn't always very sympathetic, and no offense to him, but his voice was rather...sharp. Groot was sweet, but he was still young and might get in the way. Drax wouldn't get it.

"Peter." she finally said. 

"Okay." Tony said, carefully not-smiling. 

"And if you say one word, Stark, I'll punch you." she threatened. 

He just chuckled.

***

Tony left her for a bit to gather more supplies. He convinced her to try taking pain meds just to see if they'd work, but it had been a good hour and she didn't notice any difference. 

The door hissed open and she turned her head slightly. Peter trailed after Tony into the room, and she almost grinned fondly at the look on his face. As it was, she managed a slight smile. 

"Hey. Tony said you asked for me," he dropped to one knee beside the table so he was at eye-level.

"Yeah." She sighed, and shut her eyes. "I just...want someone to ground me, you know?"

"Yeah." He met her gaze, his green eyes serious. "You're sure you want to do this?"

"I don't exactly have much of a choice, Peter," she pointed out.

  
He nodded, but his expression was worried.

 

Tony came over, gloves on his hands and a few instruments in his grasp. "Do you want to get started?" His tone was more subdued than usual.

 

"I guess I'm as ready as I can be," she said.

 

"Now, before we get going, I want to make one thing infinitely clear," Tony said, and she blinked. Peter was staring at him, too. He suddenly had a gravitas about him that reminded her of Steve's in full-on justice-defender mode. "Contrary to my needling reputation, I do not enjoy watching people suffer, and certainly not needlessly. If it's getting bad and you can't take anymore, do not hesitate to tell me, and I'll give you a break." He narrowed his gaze at her uncertainty. "I'm serious. You don't have to tough it out. Promise you won't try if you can't." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gamora swallowed. "Okay," she said. "I promise."

"Good." Tony said. "So. I guess here goes nothing."

Gamora rolled over onto her stomach. She heard Tony ripping a scalpel out of a plastic bag and suppressed a shudder. She reached over and slid her hand into Peter's, trying her best to hide the shaking. She was grateful that he didn't stare or act surprised, just closed his hand around hers. His fingers were rough and warm. 

She heard Tony telling her he was about to start. There was no sign of emotion or stress in his voice, just coolness and steadiness and a determination to fix a problem. And then she felt the sharp prick against her skin.

She pressed her forehead into the gel pad, forcing herself to take deep breaths as the cuts went deeper. Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck.

Every so often while he worked, Tony would ask her if she was okay. She would nod shortly, or make a sound as close to affirmation as she was currently capable. Peter, for his part, endured her grip and whimpers with surprising calm and gentleness of his own.

 

Still, even she could be worn down, especially with pain in this context. She didn't intend to, but she felt herself starting to hyperventilate, with pitiful little whines in between, and she felt Tony pull back. 

 

"I think a break's in order," and she slumped forward like a puppet with cut strings.

 

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on calming her pounding heart and harsh breathing and unclenching her aching jaw. Faintly she felt Peter kneading her uninjured shoulders with a delicate touch, and for some reason pictured him doing the same for his mother during chemotherapy. She almost cried just thinking about it. Instead, she put light pressure on his hand to thank him. 

 

 

 

 

 

When she had calmed a bit, Tony came back and they started work again. She fixed her gaze on the city outside, even though it hurt to stare at the metal and glass towers sparkling in the sunlight. She was on Terra, in New York, not in the cold recesses of space. She had a family again, and Tony was helping her, and Thanos could not hurt her anymore. 

 

"Got it," Tony said, and she almost jumped at the voice breaking into her reverie. "Just have to stitch it, and we'll be done."

 

***

 

A half hour later, the wounds were dressed and bandaged. Tony had called Bruce down, just to do a quick check and make sure she was alright. After checking her vitals and temperature, Bruce said it would be alright for Peter to bring her upstairs to bed, just to keep an eye on her and make sure she rested.

 

"Oh, don't worry," Peter assured him. "I'm sure she'll have a certain small tree babysitting her."

 

Bruce smiled and nodded. As he turned to go, he patted Tony's shoulder. "Good work." He smiled and turned away.

 

"Yeah, I am pretty awesome, aren't I?" Tony smirked. Gamora and Peter rolled their eyes at each other. 

 

"Tony," Gamora said. He glanced at her expectantly. "You are pretty...awesome." She smiled. "Thank you."

 

Tony smiled back. "You're not such a bad little space warrior chick, yourself. I'm glad you're on our side."

 

Peter sighed as he scooped her up. "You guys are adorable, you know that?" 

 

"Not half as much as you two are!" Tony sing-songed over his shoulder.

 

The elevator doors closed, but Gamora caught Peter's blush. She met his gaze and smiled, then nestled deeper into his shoulder. 

 

Today hadn't been so bad, after all. 


	4. Rocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rocket and Bucky are adorable grumps together and help each other out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know Bucky isn't technically an Avenger (...yet..) but I need more of the 'Sam and Bucky are junior Avengers' headcanon in my life, so flip it. I'm doing it. Even though I feel like I need a paper bag over my head for the rest of my life, because everyone else has these genius post Cap 2 stories worked out, and mine are lame. But oh well. Hopefully y'all will enjoy it. :P  
> This chapter is probably also rated T for violence, mild suicide discussion, and slight mention of blood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The launcher fizzled, a loud grinding noise sounding and sparks shooting out. Rocket cursed and dropped the thing back onto the floor. He grabbed a screwdriver and sat back down again with a sigh. 

Ever since the team had met the Avengers during a battle with HYDRA, in which Baron Von Strucker had screwed around with an Infinity Stone and accidentally transported the guardians into Terra's quadrant of the Galaxy, his explosives launcher had been acting funny. Then again, he guessed that jamming the thing onto the end of a glowing, blue scepter would mess up anything.

There was a noise of footsteps behind him. Quill came into the common room on their floor, looking particularly Terran in his jeans and t-shirt. "Hey, man," he said, heading into the kitchen. Rocket made a neutral sound in reply, shoving the screwdriver into a port on the side of his launcher and shaking it around to see if there was any debris jamming it. 

Peter came back and dropped into a couch. Despite the fact that it was four in the afternoon, he had a bag of cocoa puffs and was eating out of it with his hands.

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if you are entirely human, Quill," he muttered.

Peter shrugged. "We already know that I'm not," he said through his mouthful of cereal. 

Rocket gave up and threw the launcher onto the table with a groan. He dropped onto the floor, curling around himself.

Peter glanced at him appraisingly, eyebrow raised. "What's with you?"

"None of your dam' business," he mumbled irritably.

"Okayyyy," Peter leaned back and kept eating his cereal. 

There was a beat of sort-of-companionable silence before Rocket said, "Sorry. I dunno what's bugging me, it's just..."

But he knew exactly what was bugging him. He was restless. There hadn't been much action for a while. He missed being out in space. While New York was interesting, it reminded him too much of some spots on Knowhere; small and cramped, yet endless in all the people and the eyes and the mocking, and even worse, no escape. 

He wanted...he wanted...

He wasn't sure what he wanted.

There was a slight rumble in the wall, and Peter leaned over, glancing at the offending area in confusion. The sound was obviously the elevator passing, but all their teammates were on their floor. Of course, it could have been one of the Avengers, but no one had left the penthouse all day...

"JARVIS? Who...?" Peter asked.

"Captain Rogers has just returned, sir."

"Wha...?" That was enough to get both Peter and Rocket onto their feet. The Cap had been gone for several months, on some sort of world tour with his pal Sam to search for his missing best friend. Last time he'd checked in, which had been a couple months ago, they'd been in Lithuania and the trail had gone cold. Steve had been about as defeated as Peter had ever seen him.

"He's back?" Peter said. "So, he gave up, or..?" 

"No, sir. Sergeant Barnes came with him."

"Wow. Wonder what...? Nah. I guess Steve'll tell us, if we need to know." Peter addressed the ceiling again. "Would it be okay for us to come up and say hi?"

"I don't think that would be a large problem, sir, but I would advise you to be non-threatening. Sergeant Barnes was a prisoner of war and still is a master assassin. While my analysis shows improvement since his initial programming breakdown, he is still likely to be wary of strangers and rather reclusive for an indefinite amount of time."

"Wait a second, who's we?" Rocket interrupted.

"You and me, man," Peter said.

"Uh, nah. I got limited lifespan. Get Gamora to go with you. Besides, I barely know the guy."

"Well, this is a great time to start," Peter said brightly. "Don't make me pick you up by the scruff."

 

Rocket flattened his ears. "You'd lose your fingers, jackrabbit."

 

"Come on, Rocket," Peter sighed. "Please? Just a real quick drop by, and then you can leave."

 

Rocket huffed a sigh. "Why am I so nice to you nut cases? Fine." He pointed his screwdriver at Peter threateningly. "You owe me a pizza, though."

 

***

 

The elevator door opened to the open-concept living room and kitchen. Steve was sitting on a barstool, spinning it 60 degrees, then spinning it back, tapping his toes on the floor, and generally looking very ill-at-ease.

 

"Hey there, Cap," Peter said amiably. 

 

Steve spun the chair around. "Oh, hey Peter," he smiled at the Terran. "Rocket," he nodded at the thief.

 

"JARVIS told us you were back...and that you found your buddy, too." Peter said, striding over and sitting down at the bar across from Steve. "So, did he come to you, or...?"

 

"He came to us." Steve sighed, still sounding disbelieving. "He...he's gotten much better than the last time I saw him, but still. I'd been chasing for so long, it's just kind of...hard to believe that he finally came."

 

"...How come you seem so on edge, then?" Rocket asked, leaning up against the bar rather than risking his dignity trying to climb it. When Peter shot him a glare, he just shrugged. "I call 'em as I see 'em, Quill."

 

Steve gave a shaky smile. "As he has made infinitely clear, recently and in the past, I am an idiot worrier, and a...bit overbearing, at times." He huffed a slightly forced laugh. "He's probably mad at me for worrying so much."

 

Speak of the devil, because there were footsteps in the hallway. 

 

Rocket wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected Steve's BFF to look like. He knew they were both born in the early twentieth century, had both fought in World War II (which Natasha and Peter had given the team a crash course in upon a rainy day,) and had both escaped aging thanks to the super soldier serum and cryogenic freezing.

 

However, he wasn't sure he was expecting this 6' kid...or sat least, he kind of looked young. The long, still wet hair and sweatpants probably didn't help the effect. But there was more to it.

 

Steve had an ability to look ridiculously young sometimes; no more than sixteen. He'd seen it a few times, on missions when someone was hurt and they knew there was nothing to be done. On days when he was battered and tired. And sometimes on a snowy day in the dead of winter.

 

This expression was similar, but there was a difference. Somehow, Steve's seemed more...mournful? For innocence lost? Barnes' seemed far more resigned.

 

Steve started, his muscles tensing slightly as if he wanted to get up, but was restraining himself. "Buck! You okay?"

 

Barnes glanced back at him, seeming almost dazed, before answering, "Yeah. Yeah, I just...heard you talking." He made a slight face. "And spinning. And tapping. And chewing your nails."

 

Steve gave a laugh that was slightly forced, but held real joy. "Yeah. Um, Bucky, these are some new additions to the team. This is Peter Quill and Rocket."

 

"Hey, man," Peter nodded with a smile. "Heard a lot about you."

 

Barnes eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you still here, then?"

 

Peter shrugged. "I've got a team of a former murderess, a homicidal maniac, a walking tree who can tear goons down with one limb, and a talking raccoon with anger management issues. I'm cool with it now."

 

Barnes blinked a couple times. 

 

"Cool arm," Rocket said casually, and Peter, darned goody-two-shoes that he was, whipped his head around and glared at him. 

"We ain't goin there, Rocket," he snarled, accent coming out like it sometimes did when he was angry or freaked out. 

 

Steve and Barnes obviously didn't get the reference, because they were both staring blankly at Peter. It was funny how similar they looked with those expressions. 

 

"You wanna take the joy out of everything," Rocket rolled his eyes. "Fine. Well, it was nice meeting ya', Barnes. Welcome back to the mess, Cap."

 

He turned and headed back to the elevator. 

 

***

 

Peter gave him the cold shoulder for a few more days. Eventually he got over it, though. He always did. 

 

The routine in the tower didn't seem to change much with Barnes there. Of course, this was partly because he was only there sometimes. He'd disappear for a few days to a week, during which Steve would destroy punching bags and worry that he'd never come back. But he always did; sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but he came. 

 

As it was, Rocket really only saw him once or twice, sitting in the communal mess, eating something and then disappearing into his room. Sometimes there were screams heard through the vents in the middle of the night. Occasionally there were crashes, but Barnes always emerged the next morning, looking none the worse for wear.

 

Steve's pal Sam was hanging out at the Tower indefinitely; since he was a VA counselor, Steve figured he might be able to help. Privately, Rocket thought that it was near-impossible to fix all the broken parts of the guy, no matter how cool a guy Sam was...and it was pretty hard to dislike Sam.

 

Then came the time that Barnes disappeared for a little over a week, which had Steve worried sick, and when he did come back, he was singed around the edges, had a dislocated shoulder, and worst of all, a blank, empty look in his eyes. 

 

There were lots of nightmares that week. Which Rocket partly blamed for his whole predicament. 

 

He didn't know if it was contagious, but he could tell that having Bucky so broken and Steve so broken was grating on all of them. Sam looked perpetually exhausted, his smile not often showing itself. Tony grumbled often. Bruce just sighed. Clint and Natasha's fingers twitched, like they wanted to take up arms and smite all of Hydra single-handedly. Peter had a look of remembering a bad memory permanently etched on his face. Groot stared pitifully at all of them, wanting to help. And Gamora and Drax kept glancing at each other, obviously wanting to fix it but not knowing how.

 

And as for him, well....he was having his own problems. 

 

He wound up trapped somehow, strapped to a table made to fit him while needles burned and pricked on every side, paired with the horrible sensation of his mind being pulled out and shoved back in and torn and reassembled, the bite of cold steel, harsh voices, _no one, no voice, no name...._

 

He gasped and wasn't sure how he wound up out on the balcony, his paws wrapped around cold steel, feeling the chill wind bite his fur. 

 

He stared down below. Even at goodness only knew what time in the morning, the streets were silently alive, taxis and cars, blinking lights in every direction. Hundreds of feet below, there were people still moving about. 

 

He wondered what would happen if he jumped. 

 

Speak of the devil again.

 

"No jumping," a gravelly voice said, and he whirled around, glancing rapidly for the speaker. 

 

The balcony was curved around the building, and there were various railings at differing heights wrapping around it. Barnes was perched on one of them, a rail off the balcony, crouching. He wore grey sweatpants and a black sleeveless shirt. His hair was loose around his shoulders. 

 

"Holy. Ffff....." Rocket trailed off. "Give a guy a bit of warning, will ya?"

 

Barnes shrugged. "No jumping."

 

Rocket tiled his head at him. "And why not?"

 

"Because the small tree is your best friend. He'd miss you, at least."

 

Rocket felt a slight pang at the thought of Groot, who was growing, but still small enough to only be half Gamora's height. Still, that made him larger than Rocket himself. 

 

"Wait. What about the others?"

 

Barnes looked defensive. "They'd care, too. The tree was just the main one."

 

"His name's Groot."

 

"I'm not good with names."

 

There was a beat of silence for a bit. Then Rocket spoke up accusingly. "I'm not allowed to jump, I get it. What are you doing up here?"

 

Barnes' face fell slightly. "I dunno, I just...." he glanced down at the cars as well. "It's not that I want to jump. It's not that I want to die." He shrugged slightly. "It's just nice to know that I still can."

 

They were quiet again, except for the rustling of the wind and the hum of the city that never slept. "So...is this what you do? When you can't sleep? Stand guard?"

 

Barnes nodded slightly, glancing off at the Chrysler Building sparkling a few rooftops away.

 

"You know JARVIS does that too, right?"

 

"Steve has a natural inclination to get into trouble. More help can never hurt," Barnes stated plainly.

 

"Whatever. So...um...can I go back to bed without worrying about you throwing yourself off or spying on me or...."

 

"Go to bed, Rocket. I won't do anything except watch."

 

 

"Okayyy...well. Um. Night, I guess. Thanks for the chat." Barnes nodded slightly.

 

Rocket headed back inside, out of the chill. As he turned around, he got a glimpse of Barnes silhouetted against the city lights, and wasn't sure whether he looked more like a silent sentinel or a young kid protecting the windowsill where his brother slept. 

 

Rocket turned and went inside.

 

He didn't sleep great that night.

 

***

 

He didn't see Barnes again until Team Movie Night. 

 

He had perched in a corner of the sofa, still fiddling with his launcher, while the others helped themselves to whatever form of food it was they'd ordered this time. So far, all his team was there. Avengers were still showing up. 

 

The elevator door opened, and Steve came out of it, Barnes being towed along in his wake. Steve pulled him aside and spoke to him softly for a minute before they both nodded, and then Steve went and joined the others. Barnes himself wandered into an opposite corner and hunched between the couch and the wall. Rocket nodded at him. Barnes nodded back. 

 

Everyone else eventually filed in, piled onto the couches, and it was Barton's week to pick. Rocket wasn't sure how that entailed them all watching Mary Poppins, but oh well. 

 

Maybe a half hour in, he noticed Barnes seemed ill at ease. He was shifting restlessly, glancing around and clearly uncomfortable. After twenty more minutes, he slowly got up and left. He was so quiet, in fact, that Rocket didn't notice he had left for a minute.

 

Steve did. He started to get up to follow, but Rocket scampered over. "Stick here, Cap. I'll handle this."

 

Steve glanced at him strangely, as if he were gauging Rocket's sanity. Then he relaxed and nodded, forcing himself to turn back to the screen. 

 

Rocket scampered down the hallway. Usually, he didn't enjoy running on all fours, however, he moved faster that way. He stopped in front of Barnes' door. It was closed.

 

Rocket would admit he had his faults. He was oftentimes a jerk. He had very little brain-to-mouth filter. However, no one could ever accuse him of being stupid. One didn't survive by being stupid. So he reached out and tapped on the door lightly a couple times.  "Barnes? It's Rocket. Can I come in?"

 

Silence. Then the door slid open a crack. One green eye scanned him before the crack widened just wide enough for him to enter. The door shut behind him. 

 

Rocket blinked a couple times to adjust to how dark it was in the room. Barnes stood behind the door, hair veiling his face in shadow. As Rocket glanced around, the entire room was set up like a panic room, the mattress propped up against the window, the blankets woven into ropes and other tools, weapons and clothes dumped everywhere. 

 

Rocket strode over to the center of the room and dropped down on the floor, pulling his legs beneath him and looking up at Barnes. 

 

Barnes crossed his arms over his chest. "Steve sent you, didn't he."

 

"Nope. I'm here on my own." Rocket said. 

 

The assassin's posture became slightly less defensive, but his voice was still suspicious. "Why?"

 

Rocket shrugged. "Cause I don't like hangin out, either. Makes me uncomfortable."

  
Rocket could tell his vision was improving, because he could see Barnes raise an eyebrow. Before he could say anything else, Rocket interrupted. "How are you with explosive weaponry?"

 

"Wha....?"

"My explosives launcher is screwed up, and I haven't been able to fix it. You any good with it?"

 

"Ummm...." Barnes was silent for a moment more before he said, "Maybe."

 

Rocket got up. "Kay then. I'll go get it, and steal some snacks from the kitchen. You good with Cheetoes? Great. See ya."

He went back to the living room to grab the launcher. 

 

Steve glanced at him when he snatched it, and Rocket gave him a thumbs-up as he ran by. He grabbed the bag of Cheetoes, and sprinted back to Barnes' door. Then he paused. What if he wouldn't open up again?

 

Rocket hesitantly tapped on the door. A pause.

 

Then it opened a crack again.

 

***

 

Rocket decided that so far, this had been a success. Barnes had even switched the lights on, so as to see to work.

 

He lifted the launcher and carefully examined every aspect of it. He snatched a screwdriver and pried around inside it on different sides. "What'd you do to this thing?"

 

"Um...tried to stop a blast of glowing blue energy." Rocket mumbled with a mouthful of cheetoes. 

 

Barnes stopped working. "The scepter?"

 

"Yeah....wait, what? How did you know?"

 

Silence. Then Barnes sighed. "I was there."

  
"Wha...?" Then Rocket remembered being pinned to the floor by HYDRA agents, staring down the barrel of a pistol, when the agent holding it dropped dead as a loud crack sounded. He'd thought, in the chaos of the moment, that it had been one of his team or one of the Avengers, but as the fight went on, it became clear that there was someone else holding agents off and protecting both teams. Barton had seen the location and gone to investigate, but by the time he'd gotten there, the mystery sniper was gone without a trace.

"Why?" Rocket asked.  

Bucky shrugged. "Steve gets into tons of trouble. If I didn't save his stubborn butt, no one would."

"I'd try," Rocket protested. 

Bucky gave him a flat look, then kept messing with the launcher. There was a click, and a piece of debris shot out of the launcher's port, and Bucky smiled slightly. Rocker couldn't remember seeing him smile before. "Here." He handed it to Rocket. 

Rocket smiled back. "Thanks." He slung it over his shoulder. "You coming back out?"

Bucky's smile dropped off. "I..." 

  
"I bet Steve would appreciate it. The others would, too." 

"I..." Bucky swallowed. "I'm not sure I'm...safe."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "You're not. You're never gonna be safe. Not wholly. But you're an Avenger. The whole point of having you around is that you're not safe. You know who your enemies are. You know who your friends are. You have to make a choice. I know it sucks. It will suck. But it's worth it."

Bucky was silent. Rocket sighed and left. 

Rocket sat down on top of the back of the couch. Steve glanced at him hopefully. Rocket shrugged. Steve sighed and turned back to the movie. 

Rocket tried to pay attention as well. In fact, he got absorbed enough that he barely heard it when someone sat down on the couch. He turned and saw Bucky sitting next to Steve on the couch.

Rocket smiled and turned back to the movie. 

***

The change wasn't instantaneous, but Bucky did come out of his shell a bit. He still showed some uncertainty around other people, but the thaw was slow but certain. 

Of course, that was the point that the universe decided things had to go wrong.

***

Technically the Avengers no longer worked for SHIELD. However, Fury, who was still pretty deep in the international-trouble-detecting-machine, gave them tips occasionally for where they were needed. 

It turned out that oftentimes, when Bucky disappeared (which he still had a tendency of doing, though not as often,) he was scouting out HYDRA bases. Some of them he remembered, some Fury gave him locations on, and some were common knowledge. However, most of the time they were already abandoned, the cult members having moved to a different location. 

However, this was one time that it seemed like the base was still intact. The whole team suited up to head out, eager for some payback against the Nazi losers who had hurt all of them. 

And then it all went to hell. 

"Rocket! Get over there and cover Hawkeye!" Peter called to him, as bullets and blue energy flew around them. Rocket gave him a terse nod and scampered as fast as he could up a crate where Hawkeye was posted. 

"On your left," Rocket called, and Barton nodded and kept shooting. Rocket scanned the ground beneath them and fired at a squad heading up a ladder towards them. The bomb exploded, sending the goons falling half a story down to the concrete. 

Sam flew by, peppering the warehouse with bullets. Steve, Natasha, and Bucky pounded agents below. Even with Peter and Steve's endless optimism, Rocket could tell that they were losing encouragement. There were so many of them, and it was clear that this whole thing was a trap. 

Suddenly, they all started pulling back. Rocket lowered his launcher, glancing around. "What....?"

And then, noise hit him. It was excruciating loud, screams and static and _grating_ and _clawing_ and....

 

He woke strapped to a table, and.....no... _no....not again._ He twisted his wrists, trying to find some give, but the staps were leather, and tight. He leaned back and tried not to hyperventilate. 

That was when he heard the voices. He blinked, straining to listen. 

"...a shame that you walked into it, Captain."

"Even more of a shame than the fact that you're still breathing," Steve snarled. 

"Always so feisty. Now. Tell us where the asset is, and your team will live."

Steve's voice seemed unaffected. "Why would I do that? He's not here, and you don't know where he is, which means he's free. Which means you are in over your head."

Rocket turned back and felt someone's hand touching his. His head snapped to the side, where he saw Natasha strapped right next to him. If he could have, he would have blushed. His panic over the table had kept him from examining the room.

She mouthed something, and he read her lips. _"I'm going to pull on the strap to give you some leeway. There's a pin in my hair with a razor edge in it."_

He nodded, and she pulled hard on the strap. Even that just barely loosened it. He twisted his wrist, wincing as something popped, but managed to pull his hand out.

"I am not willing to play around with this, Captain." 

"Neither am I."

Rocket seized the pin, pulled it from Natasha's hair (gently, because he wasn't suicidal,) flicked out the knife, and began sawing as quickly as he dared. 

"Very well."

The loud crack sounded like thunder through the room, Rocket froze, and Steve gave a cry. There was a thud. 

And then there was a ragged scream of rage. Rocket's fur stood on end. 

He sawed through the bonds faster than he'd ever done _anything_ in his life, leaping onto Natasha and slicing through hers. She sprang off the table and kicked the door down. 

Bucky--no, _The Winter Soldier,_ was a whirlwind of destruction. He had already executed the commander with a single shot. More agents were pouring into the room, and Rocket and Natasha immediately began fighting to cover Steve.

Rocket glanced behind at the Cap. He was sprawled on the floor, a dark pool of blood staining the concrete. Rocket couldn't tell where he was hit. He felt as if he would choke. Instead, he snatched his launcher off one of the tables here in the control room, and fired round after round at the HYDRA bastards. The screams and gurgles were music to his ears. 

Finally, it seemed there were only a few stragglers left. The Soldier dispatched them quickly, three slashes of his combat knife and they were still on the floor, blood pouring out. He drove his knife into the shoulder blade of one body multiple times. "James!" Natasha shrieked at him. "Bucky!" Rocket called at the same time. 

The Soldier stared at them, then slowly dropped the knife, staring at his blood-stained hand as if he'd never seen it before.  

And he crossed the room in barely two steps, dropping beside Steve and carefully rolling him over. 

Rocket caught his breath at the blood seeping from a hole in his chest. However, the Soldier checked for an exit wound, and found one, seeming slightly relieved. 

Natasha dropped beside him, reaching to feel for a pulse. Almost too quickly to follow, the Soldier's palm slammed into her torso, shoving her away. "Back." he snarled. 

Rocket would have run over, but 1, Soldier, _angry_ Soldier, and 2, Natasha was already scrambling back up and backing away accordingly. 

The Soldier tore a sleeve off his shirt with barely any effort, balling it up and putting pressure on the wound with it. 

Steve blinked groggily. "Wha...?" he gurgled. 

"Shut up."

Steve stared for a second, then apparently decided it would be prudent to obey and closed his eyes. 

Rocket glanced around, only to find that Natasha had disappeared, probably to find and free the others. Their earpieces had been taken, so Bruce had probably figured out something was wrong. Rocket could already hear helicopters in the distance. 

Soon Natasha emerged with Tony and Sam, and this time, Bucky let the two of them take Steve to bring him outside. Natasha and the others followed. Rocket was following, as well, which was why he just turned in time to see Bucky staring blankly at the blood everywhere. And at his knife. And the despair that was boiling up. 

And in time to see him drop to the floor and not move. 

***

Steve would be fine. The serum had prevented any real harm from occurring, and minor surgery stopped the bleeding. He would probably be back by the next week. 

Bucky, however, was a different matter.

Physically, he was fine, aside from bruises and cuts. But he had withdrawn again. He only showed up at the hospital long enough to stare through the surgical window at Steve as the doctors worked on him, looking more lost than he had when he first came to the Tower. Still sweaty and bloody from battle, but looking as vulnerable as Steve ever had. Rocket guessed that this was what he had looked like when Steve had first jarred his memory. 

Rocket didn't like it a bit. 

When the rest of the team filed into the Tower, exhausted and drained after their victory that felt like a defeat, Bucky was missing. After everyone was cleaned up, they started a search (with more than a few grumbles from the more tired of them) but predictably, he was nowhere to be found. 

A pact was made not to tell Steve until he could handle it, because everyone knew he would climb out of his bed and out the window if he knew. They took turns sitting with him in the hospital. Every time he asked after Bucky. Natasha was probably the best of them at lying, but they knew that even she couldn't keep it up for long. 

Rocket, meanwhile, had his own theory. 

The next night, it was cold and chill outside, and raining. Rocket watched it patter against the windows for several hours, unable to sleep, before finally giving up and going to gaze out at the city.

And there on the balcony, perched in the rain, drenched hair clinging to his cheeks, was Bucky. 

Rocket opened the door, making sure to make noise. He stepped slowly outside, climbing onto the railing and inching over, little by little, until he was sitting next to Bucky on the railing. Bucky didn't react at all, still staring down at the streets numbly, and Rocket wasn't sure whether his face was stained with rain or tears. Or both.

They were silent for a long while, listening to the rain and the wind. If Rocket didn't at least know Bucky at least slightly, he wouldn't have been able to tell anything was wrong. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were empty.

"I lost it." He finally whispered.

"Well, if there's any sensible time to lose it, one would think it would be when one of the jerks who stole everything you are shoots your best friend in the chest trying to find you," Rocket said flatly. "I don't think any of us blame you for that."

"I forgot," he said angrily. "Again. I forgot Natasha, and the rest of the team, and..."

"Are you really worried about that? Natasha's fine. You just bruised her slightly. Besides, you didn't forget Steve. It could have been far worse." Rocket sighed. "It still will be if Steve finds out you're gone."

Bucky turned and gazed at him sadly. "What? I'm serious. You're not gonna help him, or any of us, by leaving for our own protection. Maybe you can't tell, but you are getting better. Little by little. It won't happen immediately. And we're here for you until it does. And after."

"Till the end of..." Bucky trailed off, swallowing hard.

Rocket felt more tired than he had in years. "Yep. Now come on. We all need some rest, and Steve would appreciate a visit tomorrow."

Bucky obediently slid off the railing and onto his feet, letting Rocket lead him inside and back to his room. He accepted the towel Rocket brought and the dry clothes Natasha brought with a small smile. And he went into his room and left the door slightly open.

And Rocket went back to bed and dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Rocket was screwed.

He was trapped atop a scaffolding, where Steve had sent him to destroy wiring in the base. And there were genetically modified monsters everywhere. 

He launched a blast at the monster-wolf charging at him with its mouth open in a vicious snarl. The bomb went into its throat, and Rocket scampered off with grim satisfaction at the explosion behind him. 

He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt as fast as he could. The end of the scaffold was three feet in front of him. The pack was still coming. And it was a two story drop. 

"Rocket!" he heard, and saw Bucky sprinting down below. "Come on!"

Rocket swallowed a groan, holstered his launcher, and let off, landing in Bucky's arms and immediately scampering up to perch on his shoulder. The wolves kept coming, leaping out after him. He drew his launcher, Bucky drawing six throwing knives at the same time. 

They fought. As Bucky went into a deadly pirouette, throwing knives in every direction and yet somehow never missing his target, Rocket fired bomb after bomb, peppering the room with explosions. 

When the smoke died down, the two stood there, panting and scanning the room for any survivors. Rocket scampered down and kicked the biggest of the wolves. Satisfied that it really was dead, Rocket turned, only to discover that they had an audience. 

Iron Man stood gaping, Clint looking impressed, Natasha and Gamora smirking, Steve shaking his head fondly, Drax promising a feast later, and Peter imitating Tony. 

"Holy. Ffff...." Tony's voice failed. He shook his head a couple times. "I am damned glad you two are on our side."

Rocket popped a cartridge out of his launcher with a snap. 

"And this is _so_ going on Youtube."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....And I strayed a bit from the prompt there, but since no one actually prompted it except me, forget it. :P Anyways, I tacked something on at the end, so that totally saves it. :P  
>  Thanks for reading this monster of a crummy chapter. :)


	5. Groot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor and the team help Groot settle down in the Tower, and build a home along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, such sap. Such fluff. Much amazed. Wow. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy.

It took everyone a while to figure out that something was up with Groot.

 

 

Even stranger was the fact that the first one to figure it out was Thor.

 

 

He'd just arrived from London with Jane and Darcy, and had yet to be introduced to everyone. Thus, he decided to go to the common level to 'chill.' The floor was completely empty when he walked out of the elevator, so he walked over and sat down on a chair next to the window. Sitting on the sill was a pot with a beautiful, yet slightly peculiar looking plant. Thor studied it for a second, wondering if it was either Tony's or Pepper's, and wondering if one could learn it's species from google. 

 

Then, the plant sighed.

 

Thor didn't mean to recoil. But somehow he found himself out of the chair and half-reclining on the floor, and he was grateful he was almost alone. The plant paid no notice, staring out the window and sighing again. 

 

Slowly, Thor picked himself up off the floor and eased over to where he was leaning against the window next to the plant. When it noticed him next to it, it glanced at him, and Thor saw two things: its features were young, and it was completely adorable.

 

"Greetings, small tree," he said kindly. "I am Thor Odinson, of Asgard. Do you have a name?"

 

"I am Groot," came the sighed reply. 

 

"I see. An interesting name. Why are you called that?"

 

"I am Groot."

 

"...I'm going to assume that those are the only words you can say. Am I correct?"

 

"I am Groot." 

 

"Ah. Very well." Thor hesitantly followed the tree's gaze out into the city. "It is most beautiful here, is it not? Steven has shown me some parts of it. It is fascinating to see how much has changed over so short a time."

 

"I am Groot."

 

Thor smiled. "I do wish I knew what you were saying."

 

"I am Groot." 

 

The elevator opened, and Steve and another man stepped out. "Thor!" Steve called. 

 

Thor smiled, getting up and walking over. "Steven! It is good to see you again," he said, pulling the other man into a one-armed embrace.

 

Steve smiled. "You too. Oh, this is Peter Quill. Peter, our resident Norse legend."  Peter smiled in a friendly manner. "Good to meet you. Oh, and that's.."

 

"Groot? Yes, we've met." 

 

Groot waved a leafy arm at them. Thor suppressed the desire to let out an "awwww." He could see that Steve and Peter were doing likewise. 

 

The elevator opened again, and the rest of the teams quickly arrived. Thor was soon distracted by introductions, reunions, and quite a lot of entertaining situations when Jane and Darcy met the others, and he forgot about the moment when he had first arrived.

 

***

 

He didn't think about it again until a few weeks later. The team had just returned from a quick but difficult mission overseas. Rocket and a few of the others were detained for a quick patch-up on minor injuries, leaving Thor, Bucky, Natasha, Peter and Drax to head back to the Tower.

 

"The next time a mission involves anything close to genetically engineered wolves, I'm staying home," Natasha mumbled as she stepped in the door on the roof. 

 

"And I'm with her," Peter sighed, staggering into the elevator and leaning against the wall. Thor pressed the button, and the lift began to descend. 

 

"Welcome home, team," JARVIS spoke above them.

 

"Hello, JARVIS," Natasha responded.

 

"Sir has called in advance and instructed me to make certain that the necessary supplies for bathing and feeding are present. However, I wished to apprise you of a situation first."

 

Peter straightened, Bucky glanced up from where he was seated on the floor, and Natasha glanced up as well. "What is it, JARVIS?"

 

"I believe that Master Groot is having some sort of...problem or issue. He has stayed inside his chambers all day and appears to be rather lethargic."

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Can he get sick?" she asked Peter. He shook his head. "Not that I've seen, at least."

 

"I suppose we had best check on him before we shower," Thor said. "Or at least some of us. No need for everyone."

 

"I'll go," Peter offered. "I'm not as good as Rocket, but I think I'm getting the hang of Groot-ese."

 

"I'll go," Bucky offered. When everyone stared at him, he shot a mild glare and shrugged. "What? The couch on that floor is really comfortable. Besides," his voice went a bit lower, "...he's hard to dislike."

 

"And I'll go." Thor decided. "Natasha and Drax can go ahead. We will summon you if it seems to be a larger problem." The two nodded.

 

The door opened on the common floor, and the three of them stepped out. Bucky dropped onto the couch and practically sank in. "You guys call me if you need me," he said, waving them off. "I'll just...be here for a bit." 

 

Thor and Peter glanced at each other, shrugged, and walked off down the hall.

 

They paused at the door to Groot's room. 

 

"Have you ever been in here before?" Thor questioned Peter, glancing sideways at him. Peter shook his head. They stared at the door some more.

 

"Screw it," Peter finally said, stepping up and lightly tapping on it. "Groot? It's Peter. Do you mind if we come in?"

 

"I am Groot," came the sighed response from inside. They glanced at each other again. That could have meant anything from 'come right in and make yourself at home,' to 'go away and never come back,' though Thor had a hard time imagining Groot saying that to anyone. Finally, Peter leaned over and slowly opened the door. 

 

Thor wasn't sure what he expected Groot's room to look like. All of the team had their choice on how to decorate their room in the tower, and most of them matched their personalities. Tony's was nice, but kind of cluttered, Natasha's was homey but had plenty of defense should the Tower be attacked, Clint's had windows from which nearly the whole city could be seen, etc. 

 

But Groot's room really just looked like a regular bedroom. And sprawled on the floor, staring out the window, was Groot.

 

Peter slowly inched over the floor before lowering himself down on his stomach next to Groot. Thor followed, not knowing what else to do. Groot didn't glance at them, never wavering from staring out the window.

 

"Hey, buddy," Peter said softly. "You okay? JARVIS told us you seemed kinda down."

 

"I am Groot." 

 

"Yeah, I know. But...I don't know why you're so down."

 

"I am Groot."

 

"...Yeahhhh...." Peter glanced at Thor, looking helpless. Thor sighed and glanced out the window, following Groot's gaze to Central Park....

 

"Of course! Why didn't we see it earlier!" He stood up quickly.

 

"See what?" Peter asked, confused. 

 

"JARVIS, is thee a vehicle of friend Tony's I might borrow quickly?"

 

"Sir has several less conspicuous cars in the garage. I am sure he would not mind your using one for an hour or more."

 

"Very well." Thor turned to Peter, who still looked confused. "I will be back soon. Come along, Groot. We're going to take a ride."

 

***

 

Thor had been to Central Park only a few times in his adventures on Midgard. Every time, it amazed him how much of an impact it had on a person, to go from the never-ending city into the veritable jungle of grass and trees.

 

Yet he had never seen anyone so happy to be in it. Groot ran from the car as soon as they had parked, dropping into the grass and rolling around on his back, resembling a child making snow angels. He bounced up again, running around through the trees, and it winded Thor to try and catch up with him, exhausted as he was. Yet it heartened him to see Groot so joyful.

 

Groot started ten feet from a tree, took a running leap, and seized a lower branch, pulling himself up. He smiled and glanced back down at Thor. " _I am Groot!_ " he waved with one arm.

 

"You want me to climb?"

 

"I am Groot!" he nodded happily.

 

Thor hesitated, but when he saw Groot's expression he sighed. "Ah. Well. 'Screw it,' as Darcy would say," he mumbled. He seized the branch and swung up.

 

Groot was maybe ten feet above him, climbing rapidly, and Thor grew uneasy as they went higher. He wondered if Groot would ever stop, and he felt every bruise he had received on their mission. 

  
Then, suddenly, the leaves and branches stopped, and Thor found himself in open, crisp, cool air. He sat for a moment, drinking it in, before he opened his eyes and saw Groot grinning happily and gesturing further out. He followed Groot's pointing hand, and caught his breath at the sight.

 

The sun was setting, bathing the city in beams of orange and golden light. It reflected off of the glass windows, the steel beams, the metal of the cars, and the already orange leaves of all the trees in the park.

 

He had been to many worlds in his long life, and this was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever beheld.

 

Groot sighed and nestled down into the leaves, looking perfectly satisfied. 

 

***

 

The moon had risen above the city by the time Thor and Groot trudged back into the Tower. The rest of the team had arrived, and had apparently all grabbed spaces on the couches and were mostly finished eating. They all glanced up and stared slightly at Thor, even dirtier than earlier, brambles in his hair and leaves in his clothes, and at Groot, practically bouncing with happiness.   

 

"We need to talk," Thor said, and then headed down the hall to shower.

 

He returned ten minutes later, towelling off his hair, and found that no one had left, and were still lying around the living room. The TV was on a house show, but no one was really watching it.

 

Groot had settled down next to Rocket on the couch, and was animatedly talking to him, so much that his 'I am Groots' were slurring together into a continuous 'imgroots.'

 

"So, you took him to the park." Rocket addressed Thor.

 

"Indeed." Thor sat down on the floor in front of one of the couches. Everyone glanced at him.

 

"I suppose at least some of you have noticed that our small tree friend had been rather down lately," Thor said. Nods from the more perceptive of the teams. "I believe it is because he has had a lack of "green time," for lack of a better term. One can see why he would feel homesick in the middle of the city."

 

The others looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I did wonder why he kept staring out the window," Steve said. He shrugged. " I guess we should have guessed earlier."

 

"So...what should we do?" Peter asked. 

 

"Friend Tony, is there anywhere where one might do something with plants in the Tower?"

 

Tony arched an eyebrow thoughtfully where he sat on the couch, sipping a coffee. "You might ask Pepper about that. I think she started a garden on the roof awhile ago."

 

"Isn't she in Shanghai?" Steve asked.

 

"Yep. But she'll be back tomorrow."

  
***

 

The next afternoon found Thor on the roof; there was a separate balcony for Tony's suit, so this one had been empty since the Tesseract incident. 

 

Pepper was with Tony, waiting for them. Thor couldn't remember a time he'd ever seen her in a t-shirt, so he tried to memorize the sight. 

 

"Tony said you wanted to ask about gardening up here?" she asked, smiling at Groot and Thor. 

 

"Yes. I think Groot would enjoy having a space in the Tower where he might have a bit of natural sanctuary."

 

"Well, you're most certainly welcome to put more of a garden in up here. I think it would be nice. If there's anything structural that needs to be done, just let me know and I'll be happy to make sure it gets done."

 

"What do you think, Groot?" Thor asked. Groot had been busy examining a bed of daylillies. He glanced up and grinned brightly. "I am Groot!" 

 

And this time, none of them held in the "awww."

 

***

 

Thor began to draw up plans for a rooftop garden. He was hard at work for several days on it. It probably would have gone faster, but he kept getting suggestions. 

 

Tony thought it would be interesting to experiment with a grape arbor. Steve thought that trying to grow food as well as normal plants could be useful. Drax suggested trying to transplant a few of the plants Groot kept on the Milano. Bruce asked if a greenhouse might be a possibility. 

 

Eventually, the plans took shape, and Thor sent them to Pepper. She approved them and commissioned workmen to build some of the constructions in the spring.

 

When spring had finally come and Thor came upstairs, the gravel on top of the building had been replaced with a rich, brown loam in some places, and a soft, thick green grass in others. 

 

And in the floor beneath were all the plants that had been ordered.

 

***

 

Thor spent the next few weeks working on the roof; building a trellis, installing paving stones, planting flowerbeds and trees. Groot came up and helped often. 

 

And he had more help than that.

 

He came up one day to find that anemones had been planted in one flower bed, and Russian sage next to it. Bruce provided a synthesized fertilizer that made the plants grow at a faster rate. Steve came up sometimes to help with construction or planting. Bucky sometimes came with him, and spent time helping Groot water things or digging holes to plant new varieties in. 

 

Steve also helped with food. Sometimes he brought snacks up; homemade breads or pies. He also brought his sketchbook, and occasionally just sat up there and drew; whether it was the city, or the rooftop, or items on the roof. He sketched Groot climbing on a trellis, extending his arm to grow flowers along the wooden beams, and titled it "A Tree Grows In Manhattan," which made Bucky smack him lightly on the back of the head. He later framed it and hung it in the common floor. 

 

Natasha sometimes came upstairs to "supervise," though if one hid well enough they could see her delicately caring for the flowers, and maybe even playfully spraying Groot with a hose. Clint occasionally visited as well; in the morning, afternoon, or in the middle of the night. He usually perched somewhere nearly invisible and ridiculously high, and made a game out of seeing how long it took for someone to find him. 

 

Eventually, after several weeks, the roof was finished. And it was right around Steve's birthday.

 

Tony was at the head of a brilliant plan to surprise him. It involved plenty of orders going out, decorating in the garden, a few false "plans" for July 4th, and willing cooperation from both teams. Surprisingly enough, Bucky became second-in-command on Operation-Let-Freedom-Ring. Then again, everyone understood that Steve'd had a rough...well, _life_ , and Bucky was determined to make sure he had a great 97th birthday.

 

The Fourth finally came, and it found Steve off doing paperwork at Fury's request. 

 

The Avengers and Guardians took to the roof, Gamora and Natasha hanging streamers and paper lanterns on the trellises full of blooming flowers. Pepper oversaw deliveries and food, making sure everything was set in the proper places. Tony and Peter collaborated on choosing music, and Drax and Thor set up tables and chairs. 

 

Bucky, meanwhile, took one of Tony's largest vehicles, and set off through the city for several hours. When he returned, the truck was loaded with items that needed to be taken care of, and guests to be waiting.

 

It was evening when Steve finally came back into the Tower. He stopped in the common room, glancing around in confusion at the silence. The team had gathered around the security monitor, watching his reaction. 

 

"I do hope he won't decide you've all been kidnapped," one of the guests remarked wryly, and Bucky smacked himself on the forehead. "I'm a moron. I didn't think of that. JARVIS?"

 

"Leave it to me, sir," he said calmly.

 

"Captain, I believe sir is on the balcony at the moment," JARVIS said.  

 

"Oh, thank you JARVIS." Steve hesitated, hands in his pockets. "Do you...would I be interrupting anything if I went up there?" Everyone watching snickered.

 

"No, in fact, I think sir and Ms. Potts would enjoy the company," JARVIS said. 

 

"Well. Alright. If you're sure..." Steve got back into the elevator. 

 

"Places, everyone!" Tony hissed, and there was a general scramble as everyone hurried around to find a spot.

 

The door opened. Steve took two steps out, then froze in shock. "Surprise!" Tony grinned.

 

The whole roof was strung out with red-white-and-blue ribbons and lanterns, in all the trees and on the trellises, making it sparkle. There were tables loaded with food, benches and chairs set up all around the patio, and it was all filled. Hill, Fury, and Coulson and his team were there, as well as Sam, Sharon, and Peggy. Add in a bunch of ecstatic Avengers and Guardians, as well as Rhodey, Jane, Darcy and Pepper, and there was a full house present on the roof. 

 

"I..." Steve stood for a moment, blinking. "I don't know what to say."

 

"A nice 'thank you,' is the standard response, idiot," Bucky said fondly. Somehow, he'd wound up perched on a bench, with Groot perched on his lap and Rocket perched on his shoulder. Groot was blowing bubbles with a Stark-engineered glow-in-the-dark feature.

 

Steve stared for a moment, eyes glistening, before he swallowed hard. "Yeah. Thank you guys. Thank you. So much." 

 

And they all got the idea that he wasn't just thanking them.

 

***

 

Soon, Steve was sitting on the bench, with Peggy and Bucky on either side, cracking jokes with Sharon and eating cake and ice cream Pepper had ordered from a family-owned bakery. 

 

Tony, meanwhile, was leading some of the other guests in a game of 'guess-who.' Groot was charming Jemma and Skye by leading them through the garden, showing off his flowers, and Peter was playing some familiar tunes on the stereo and trying to get Gamora to join the dancing. 

 

"You have made it quite homey up here," Peggy said with a smile, fingertips brushing a spot on her sleeve where a butterfly had just landed. 

 

Steve glanced around, watching Tony drag Pepper to join Peter and Gamora. Bucky slowly got up from the seat. "If you will excuse me," he walked off towards Natasha. Steve shook his head and smiled. 

 

After a few more minutes if watching the couples, Peggy lightly smacked Sharon's arm. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on." Sharon flushed slightly, as did Steve. "I...I umm..."

"Oh, come now, Steve." Peggy smiled at him. "Don't make my niece dance alone. Off you go." She shooed them gently with her hand. 

Steve glanced at Sharon. "....If you want to...?"

 

"Come on, Steve," she seized his hand and dragged him off. He couldn't help glancing back, but all he saw on Peggy's face was a grateful, happy smile.

 

Funny, it looked just like he felt. 

 

"...You do know I can't dance?" he asked Sharon, feeling a little panicked at being in the group. Peter rolled his eyes. "Nonsense. None of us are professionals."

 

"Speak for yourself, jerk," Bucky rolled his eyes as he twirled Natasha, and Steve laughed. 

 

He grasped Sharon's hand, then smiled slightly as the music changed to something a bit familiar. 

 

 

  
_If you need me, call me,_ _No matter where you are,_ _No matter how far._

He met Peter's eyes, and saw no sorrow, just a smile and a wink as he turned back to Gamora. 

 

"I don't care," Sharon said with a smile. "We can improvise." 

 

_Just call my name, I'll be there in a hurry, You don't have to worry._

"Okay," he said. 

 

Peggy had moved up to the edges of the terrace, and she she sat in a chair Coulson had provided, laughing and clapping as the song went on. She shook her head while she watched Steve actually twirl and dip her niece, and remarked to Fury, "I've lived for ninety-seven years, and I never thought I'd live to see this."

 

Fury glanced up at the partying superheroes.  _My love is alive, Way down in my heart, Although we are miles apart._

 

"Me neither," he admitted. 

_If you ever need a helping hand, I'll be there on the double, As fast as I can..._

There was a loud 'crack,' and Steve glanced up to see Rocket grinning giddily as he lit a firework. He couldn't help the way his gaze snapped to Bucky, but his best friend was smiling, as was Natasha, who was actually  _tucked into his arms..._

The world was a weird place, and he knew it. Always had, and it always would be. 

 

But it was a good place, too, he decided, as he watched the red and blue sparks shooting through the sky. A very good place. 

 

A place worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this bit of fluff to prepare for the angsty hurt/comfortness of the next chapter. Maybe you won't be too mad at me. :P
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. ...And One Time They All Helped The Avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is angst, sap, and Groot. And Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REGRET NOTHING! 
> 
> Enjoy.

Peter ran full pelt through the parking garage.

"Quill! Wait, dammit!" he heard Rocket yelling, scampering as his teammate followed him through the rubble.

Peter dodged a chunk of concrete, scrambled over a crevice. The teams had been called out to fight a species of aliens, one Gamora had recognized by her pinched expression. Steve and Bucky had been evacuating civilians when the aliens had started the bombings. Sam had tried to stop them, but they had managed to damage another office building, and the two super-soldiers had run off to help anyone trapped. They had gotten everyone out, but the building was too far gone.

And it had collapsed.

 _Don't be dead, don't be dead,_ resounded in Peter's head like a litany, in sync with the pounding of his feet on the floor. He rounded a corner...and found Steve pounding against a solid-looking metal door.

"Steve!" he shouted, and Steve's head snapped around. "You okay?" He nodded quickly. "Where's Bucky?"

Only then did Peter really think to study Steve, and he cringed at how his friend's face was drained pale with fright and probably panic. "He...he shoved me out, and it came down, and..." He gazed helplessly at the door.

He didn't need to say anything more.

"We need to get this open, _fast._ Rocket?"

"On it," Rocket scrambled up and tore open the access panel beside the door. Steve took to pacing. Peter himself seized his comm and tried to buzz one of the others outside, with little success. They were too deep for the signal to penetrate without help.

"Got it," Rocket said breathlessly, and the door buzzed. Steve seized it and tore it off its hinges.

The 'room' was barely recognizable as such. The floor was covered by four feet of crumbled bits of the building and other debris, and Peter's heart sank.

Steve was already combing through the mess. "He has to be close to the door. He couldn't have gotten far, and it makes sense to stay close to the wall, anyway..."

Peter and Rocket exchanged glances, and started digging themselves, Rocket scampering off to cover more ground. Privately, Peter wondered if even a super-soldier could survive a collapse like that...

...And he lifted a piece of debris, and something made a nasty grinding sound. He pulled the slab of concrete all the way off, revealing a dusty, battered piece of steel...which was still recognizable as Bucky's arm.

"Over here!" he shouted to the others as he continued digging, praying that the arm was still attached to its owner.

As they slowly uncovered him, Peter could see that even with the limited time he had, he'd managed to throw his arms up to protect his head and chest. The metal arm was pretty dented, but it was nothing compared to his right, which was badly broken, judging by the way it hung. Peter hoped it could be saved, because he didn't want to tackle therapy for _two_ missing limbs.

Peter and Rocket had to work together to lift a six-foot chunk of concrete off his torso, and Rocket gave a little hiss of concern as they tossed it off. The lower part of his ribcage had apparently taken most of the weight, because it was misshapen, as well.

"This...is not good." Rocket said.

"You think you can whip something up to boost the signal for the comm?" Peter asked.

"Maybe." Rocket snatched the comm and hurried off, probably back to the panel to scavenge for wires or something.

Peter carefully crouched down beside Bucky. Steve had already uncovered his head, and was gently tapping his friend's cheek. "Bucky? Wake up."

No response. His face was slack, and his skin looked chalky compared to his black hair, which was plastered to his face with blood.

"He is breathing, right?"

Steve lightly pressed the back of his hand to Bucky's mouth. "Yes," he said after a moment, and Peter sighed. "Hope the others can get here soon..."

The two of them started at a deafening crash outside. Peter scrambled to his feet, running outside the room. "Rocket!?"

"I'm here," his teammate scrambled up as dust began to settle. He swore. Peter cringed as well. It was clear that another bomb had been dropped, because now the entrance to the garage had collapsed, as well.

"Even if they're alright out there, it'll take a while for them to get in here," Rocket said.

"Always the optimist." Peter sighed.

"Realist," Rocket muttered, tearing a wire out of the panel and connecting it to the comm. It fizzled, some feedback sounded, and then a voice, tinny due to lack of signal, said "Quill? Rogers? Anyone?"

"Tony, it's Rocket."

"Rocket? Good to know you're okay. Are the others with you?"

"Yeah. We're trapped in an office building."

"I saw which one. Everyone okay?"

"No. Barnes is hurt. Don't know quite how badly, but I definitely think it'd be unwise to move him without help."

"Got it. Nat just took care of supervillain of the week, so we'll get to you fast as we can."

"Kay. See ya soon." Rocket flicked off the comm. He and Peter hurried back in.

Steve was still sitting at Bucky's head, but it was obvious that he was getting worse. His lips were tinged blue, and his breathing was raspy. "Pretty sure one of his ribs punctured his lung," Steve said tightly.

Rocket flinched. "Anyone have a syringe or somethin', just in case?"

"I have one," Steve said. "Not sure how effective it'd be, though."

"Here's hoping we won't have to find out," Peter said.

Bucky let out a low moan, his face tight in spite of the fact that he seemed semi-conscious. Steve lightly scritched his fingers through his friend's hair. After a minute, he quieted again, sinking back into whatever stupor he'd been in.

"No sense in all of us sitting here when he's stable...for now, at least," Peter said, getting to his feet. "Rocket and I can take turns making a path for when the others get here. Steve can stay here and call us if anything changes."

The others nodded. "Okay. I'll take the first shift."

***

Peter threw a large piece of rubble off to the side with a grunt. He dusted his hands off and studied his work. He had made about twenty feet of a path through the rubble.

He heard Rocket coming up behind him. "Ready to switch?" His teammate asked.

"Guess so." He clambered down from the rubble. "How's Barnes doing?"

"'Bout the same when I left," Rocket said, already shoving another piece aside. "Tony says they're waiting for heavy equipment, but Hulk, Thor, and Drax are already working on it on the other end."

"'Kay. Guess I'd better go check on the others." Rocket nodded, and Peter turned and headed off.

He heard the trouble before he saw it. As he turned a corner, he heard a wet, hacking cough, and he swore inwardly. He sprinted into the room just in time to see Bucky coughing blood.

Steve was gently prodding the injured section of his ribcage. "I don't think it's too bad yet," he said, though you couldn't have known by how strained his voice was.He carefully secured his hands beneath Bucky's shoulders.

"If he has a spinal injury, propping him up is a bad idea," Peter said.

"And if I don't, he'll choke to death," Steve retorted, and Peter stayed silent.

Bucky coughed again, flinching and struggling for air. Elevation seemed to ease his breathing a bit, but not much. To Peter's surprise, his lashes fluttered open to slits. His eyes were glassy, but he could tell that Bucky saw them. "Steve...Peter..." he gurgled weakly.

"Shhh." Steve responded softly. "The others are coming." Bucky didn't respond, wheezing and looking far younger than his ninety-eight years. His chest hitched, and he clenched his eyes shut as more blood welled up in his throat. Steve gently leaned him to one side so it would trickle out of his mouth, but Peter could tell that he was getting anxious, and rightly so. Bucky was starting to tremble and sweat, and he was just awake enough to look terrified. For a guy who had endured as much as he had, that was scary.

"I...I can't..." he slurred. "'m cold, I..." he was hyperventilating now, and Peter wasn't sure it was solely due to his lung injury. "I don't want to freeze again."

Peter swallowed hard. He knew how it felt to be so afraid of something. For a long while after he met the team, during close calls, he had a tendency to panic; he was afraid of losing them without a chance to say goodbye.

And now, here he sat, watching another friend slowly drown in his own blood.

"Shh. Just breathe. You'll be fine. Just keep breathing," Steve said calmly, and Peter couldn't help but wonder if their roles had been exchanged, once.

He heard the cracks and thuds of debris moving, and realized that the others were almost in.

He just hoped Bucky would last that long. Steve was trying to calm him from his panic attack, but it seemed slightly pointless while his muscles tensed as he arched, breath coming in high, rapid wheezes. Not knowing what else to do, Peter grabbed his limp right hand, hoped he still had feeling in it, and squeezed it gently but firmly, trying to will strength into it.

He heard the paramedics rushing in, and shifted to make room, watched numbly as they worked to drain some of the blood and intubate him quickly. When they managed to temporarily stabilize him, they rushed him off, ordering a team to be ready for surgery. Steve had hesitated, but Peter had shot him a look, and so he sprinted out with them.

Peter and Rocket slowly picked their way out of the building; the bloodstained debris and dust and darkness and sparking wires. And emerged into the bombed out city streets, as a light drizzle brought a smell as horrible as the worst areas of Knowhere.

Peter dropped onto the sidewalk and threw up. Rocket collapsed beside him, too tired to move.

That was where Gamora found them an hour later.

***

For some reason, Peter was deep in a memory--or what he was pretty sure was a memory--of his mom telling him that there were times that people got into states where they were so exhausted that they couldn't think, or even function.

He was beginning to wonder if he'd passed it. He felt worse than hungover; he had no idea where he was. If someone had asked, he'd have no idea what day it was. He strained to remember what had happened, but he couldn't.

He only started to come around when hot water hit him, and all he did was raise his head and drink in the heat drawing the ache from his abused muscles. He finally lowered his gaze to ash and dust and dirt and grime running down the drain. He was leaning against the wall in a shower.

His mind suddenly recalled, as if from a dream, Gamora's small but strong arm beneath his shoulders, the blur of lights and sound, and an awful, shrill whine of a monitor.

He hurried to finish and found a clean set of sweats on the counter. He dressed and hurried down the hospital hallway, barefoot and toweling his hair dry.

He threw a door open and came into a waiting room outside an OR. Sam, Clint, Gamora, Rocket, Drax, Tony, and Sharon all slumped in chairs in the room, clean but looking just as drained as he felt. He was also surprised to see Groot. Since he was now about 10 in height and maturity, he often stayed behind on missions. Only Sam, Sharon, Groot and Gamora glanced up at him.

"Bucky?" he asked, and was surprised at how quietly his voice came out. Sam shrugged, looking helpless. Sharon was the one who spoke up. "He coded when they first got him in, and again awhile ago. If he makes it through the surgery, he's got a good chance, but..." she trailed off. "He was hemmorrhaging. A lot. Even with the serum, that can be deadly."

Peter dropped into a chair. "I take it Steve's in there?"

"Yep. Has been for the last," Sharon glanced at her watch, "...two hours. Bruce is helping the surgeons, since he has more serum knowledge than most."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Peter asked, "Can I go in there?"

Sharon shrugged. "Sure. There's coffee and sandwiches here. See if you can convince Steve and Nat to eat something."

Peter nodded. "Any idea where I can find some shoes, first?"

***

Peter hesitated outside the door, then gingerly opened it.

Steve was resting his chin atop his folded arms, his forehead nearly pressed against the glass that separated him from Bruce and Bucky and the surgeons. Natasha stood a bit further behind, arms crossed and expression completely blank; which Peter now knew to mean she was upset.

As for Bucky, well, Peter flinched just glancing over. Steve couldn't be put under due to the serum. Bucky could be, but it took three times the average dose. Of course, there was really no good way to deal with this situation; there was no guarantee his body could handle the anesthetic--but it probably couldn't handle someone cutting into his ribcage, either. His face was even more pale than it had been in the rubble, barely distinguishable from the sheets, and his vitals didn't look good. And that was ignoring the really terrifying amount of blood covering the sheets.

Peter softly padded further into the room. Natasha glanced at him instantly--he'd expected as much--and he said nothing, simply holding a sandwich and a bottle of water out to her. She reached over and accepted them both, and as he turned back to the glass he saw her set the sandwich down but open the water and drink it. He knew a compromise when he saw one.

So he took it.

Steve, though...he knew he wouldn't have a chance tackling him as it was. He was far too preoccupied, and Peter couldn't blame him.

He heard a small rustling noise as the door opened, and turned to see Groot sliding in quietly. The small tree's features shifted to distress at the sight of the man on the other side of the glass; everyone had a soft spot for Groot, and Bucky had played with him often--but soon his face turned back to its purposeful expression and he trotted over to where Steve hung onto the frame of the window, shoulders hunched and slightly shaking.

Very slowly and gently, Groot leaned against Steve, wrapping his limbs around him until he was gently hugging him. Steve glanced down at the small tree, and reached down and patted his head with an almost-steady hand.

Peter glanced up and saw the surgeons finishing stitching Bucky up. It took a few minutes, but eventually his heart rate evened out. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Thank God for the serum.

Natasha had already turned to go. "You coming, Steve?" Steve glanced up at her. "Huh? Oh....yeah." He glanced back down at Groot, then leaned down and hugged him back. "Thank you," he whispered, so softly Peter could barely hear it, before he let go.

***

Bucky was moved to a room in the Tower's medical wing and put in an induced coma while his lung healed. Aside from that, he also had a mild concussion, broken ribs, multiple fractures in his right arm, and a fracture in his right leg. All told, it had been a bad mission, and led to a very unpleasant visit from Captain America for the culprit.

Two days after the mission, Peter took over for Natasha and sat beside Bucky's bed. They'd thought it would be prudent to have someone he recognized with him when he woke, just in case.

Peter glanced over at the clock. It read 3:00 a.m. The room was silent, except for the gentle wheeze of the oxygen tank that had replaced the ventilator. Bucky's face was very still, but he looked almost peaceful.

Peter sighed and pulled out his walkman, putting on the headphones and leaning further back in the chair, fingers brushing the familiar, battered plastic surface.

A rustling woke him from a doze sometime later. He sat up and glanced over drowsily. He woke a bit more when he saw that Bucky had tossed his head, fingers twitching against the sheets.

"Hey. Barnes? You awake?" He asked softly.

Silence. Then a groan. "Unfortunately," Bucky croaked, and Peter couldn't help the grin that crossed his face. Bucky cracked his eyes open slightly, scanning the room a bit drowsily. "Steve okay?"

"Yeah. We just convinced him to get some rest this afternoon." Peter rolled his eyes. "You know how he is."

"Damn right I do," Bucky sighed, rolling onto his back. "I swear, I can hear him fretting from here..."

He froze, and Peter heard the rapid footfalls, as well. He started to get up and go to the door...

And it was thrown open, and there stood Steve, still in pajamas.

"Bucky!" he called, running across the room and wrapping his friend in an enthusiastic but gentle hug before Peter or Steve could react.

"Ow," Bucky complained halfheartedly. "Rogers, did your mama drop you on your head a lot? It is 4:00 in the morning, moron."

"He's insulting me, that means he's okay." Steve remarked to Peter, still not letting go.

Peter shook his head with a smile, then paused as he heard more running footfalls outside. The door flew open again, and soon the room was full of varying bouncy and drowsy teammates, still dressed in pajamas and all very excited. Steve was only separated from his hug when Natasha shoved him out of the way and kissed Bucky full on the mouth.

"Geez. You all are insane," was all he said when he fell back against the pillow, breathing hard. Twelve bright smiles grinned back at him. He sighed. "I'm fine. Really."

Groot ran up to the bed and wrapped his arms around a surprised Bucky. "We are Groot!" he cheered.

Steve chuckled. "Don't think that requires translation."

Bucky stared at the small tree for a moment, before awkwardly raising his broken right arm and patting his back. "Uh, yeah." He still seemed uncomfortable. Unsure. But his smile was as genuine as it had ever been, and it reached his eyes. "Thanks, guys. Just...thanks." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have one more little bonus chapter to come. Hopefully I will have it posted by Saturday...which also just so happens to be my birthday.


	7. +1--Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist. Enjoy.

Five years after the helicarriers, and Sam still was not sure how this was his life.

He dove behind a broken, upended concrete barrier as more bullets rained down on him. He heard a thud and a grunt, and turned his head to see Bucky beside him, winded and battered. He had somehow lost his cowl in the fight, and his sweaty black hair was wildly mussed. The deep cerulean of his uniform was stained with ash and a bit of blood.

There was another thud, and Sam whirled, just in time to see Rocket skidding to a stop at his feet. He hurried out, seized him, and dragged him back behind the concrete right before the gunshots started again.

Sam sagged back against the slab, only to jump again as he yanked his hands to a safe distance from Rocket's jaw. "Hey! Rocket, relax, it's just us."

Rocket swore, rubbing his skull. "What happened?"

"Beats me, man. I just saw you land next to our shield, here."

Bucky rolled his eyes, drawing his arm across his forehead to wipe off sweat before securing the shield back on his arm. "Any idea how much resistance is still out there?"

Rocket sighed. "Probably 50-70 mercs? Couldn't tell. I was with the others."

"Widow to Cap," buzzed on the comm, and the three of them straightened. They could all hear the backdrop of gunfire and explosions.

"This is Cap," Bucky responded. "Where are you guys?"

"Corner of 47th and Drawbridge. We're taking heavy fire, and Hawkeye's down--not critical so far as I can tell." Natasha's voice was level as always. "We could use some help."

"On it, over." Bucky turned to Sam. "Can we get over there?"

Sam leaned just barely high enough to look--and immediately dove back down to avoid getting sniped.

"Must be at least twenty, loaded for bear, and all trained on this spot, Cap." He shook his head. "We ain't going nowhere while they're there."

"Unless we can get up real fast..." Rocket mused.

Sam and Bucky gazed at him, then at each other. "You got any bright ideas, Rocket?" Bucky finally asked.

"One." Rocket said, glancing at the building and sidewalk behind him. "I'm gonna need five grenades, thirty feet of cable...and your arm."

Bucky sighed.

***

"There is no way this is gonna work," Bucky said plainly.

Rocket shot him a glare. "Of course it will," he muttered, trying to balance his body on the makeshift seat they'd woven into the cable.

Sam was still shaking his own head at the far-fetched plan. At Rocket's direction, he had taken the cable, and looped one end around a parking meter, the other around a pole. As he was tying it, he suddenly froze. "Now wait just a damn minute. Are you building a catapult!?"

"Yep," Rocket said nonchalantly. He trotted up and plucked the cable with his paw. "Looks fine to me."

Now, Sam leaned against the concrete, firing shots and holding the goons off. "Not sure how much longer I can keep this up, guys!" He called.

Bucky stood behind Rocket, seizing the cable with his left arm and drawing it back as far as he could. "Before we do this, I hereby declare that if it doesn't work, I've got dibs on the weapons, and I am not dealing with Groot." "

"Will you shut up and let go, moron?" Rocket growled, and after gauging the direction and distance, Bucky let go.

Rocket flew through the air, before uncurling to throw grenades in either direction and seizing his launcher off his back, firing away like a small furry whirlwind of death. Sam and Bucky watched in a kind of fascinated entertainment/revulsion, before grabbing their weapons and running into the fray themselves.

Sam pulled the cord and took off, flying and shooting in rapid succession, while Bucky threw the shield with a precise grace as it broke the ribs of several mercs in rapid succession.

Sam arced and folded the wings at just the right second, dropping to his feet beside Natasha, who was emerging from the building she had been trapped in. Clint's arm was thrown around her shoulders. She shot him a slight smile. "Thanks."

"Welcome," he responded, as Rocket straightened up and came over and Bucky stowed the shield on his shoulders again.

"That...was incredible," Tony's voice sounded in their ears.

"There goes the neighborhood," Steve said dryly, and Sam once again felt relieved to know that he was alive...even if Bucky was the Cap now, Steve was a hero without the stars and stripes.

But then...so was Bucky.

Steve just meant to show the world that he was.

"Well, looks like the problem's been rectified for the moment," and Sam could hear the fondness in his voice. "Come on home, guys."

"Sap," Bucky said, equally fondly, grabbing the cowl off the ground. Natasha leaned over and kissed him before he put it on. They pulled back, smiling, and Bucky sighed. "Rocket?"

"Yeah?"

"I owe ya a pizza. Don't lemme forget."

Rocket grinned. "You've got it, Cap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a ride. Thanks so much for all the good feedback and such, I really appreciate it. Hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
> 
> I can be found on Youtube, G+, or tumblr:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHHzT9AF9qPAP9arsUVpC3g
> 
> https://plus.google.com/u/0/102193829503509458371/posts
> 
> http://autumnhobbit.tumblr.com


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